Of Honor and Duty
by Akane-Rei
Summary: A loss of memory may lead to complications in the Hellsing Organization and the relationships of its members.
1. Part One: Awakenings

**Of Honor and Duty - a Hellsing Fanfiction**

_**Part One: Awakening**_

The first thing she became aware of was the searing pain. It was white hot, like fires licking, nipping greedily at her skin. She felt her breath catch as she tried to rise, to escape. She caught glimpses of worried faces, of hands restraining her, of machines blinking their colorful lights. She struggled in a panic driven haze. With an unfamiliar thread of desperation giving strength to her actions, she pushed and fought, with one thought strong on her mind.

_They were burning her alive..._

She felt her breathing quicken and looked blindly around her for anything. She was down, and she _hurt,_ and...and...she can't move. She stared ahead of her, unseeing, and emitted a soundless scream of protest as a sharp prick of pain registered near her shoulder. She turned her head, quickly seeking the source, and felt a heavy weight of dread settle on her chest.

_Tranquilizers._

She watched the liquid drain from the syringe, her futile struggles turning from sluggish to nonexistent. She felt herself drift away, away from the burning pain and from the relentless hands, away the intermittent throb in her head and the mechanical sounds of machines, away from the voices...

"We need to cool her down!"

"She's burning up."

"Doctor!"

".. losing her..."

"...stabilize her condition..."

And finally, just away.

She drifted into nothingess.

- - - - - - - - - -

Her eyes opened slowly, sluggishly. Her heavy lids rose reluctantly from disuse. She blinked as rays of sun penetrated through her half-open lids, almost blinding her with their brightness. She raised her hands to shield her from the intensity only to feel a small nagging pain in the back of her hand. Bringing her hand closely to her face, she observed the IV connection through blurred images.

_What...what happened?_

Slowly, painstakingly, she tried to push herself up a bed.

_Her bed?_

She cringed as she noticed the rustiness of her movement, the sheer physical effort it took to pull herself up to a sitting position. She felt her muscles protest and heard her own gasp of alarm as her arms collapsed beneath her and she found herself lying back down.

"You should not be over-exerting yourself at this time," said a constrained voice to her right.

She turned her head and saw a blurred image of a distinguished man standing by the doorway. His manner was stiff, his frame lanky, as he slowly approached her bed. He had an older face and even older looking eyes. She noticed his brow wrinkle in...annoyance? as he noticed the somewhat rumpled bed.

"I..." she started to speak. Her throat felt parched, her mouth dry. She licked her chapped lips and swallowed convulsively. "I..." she tried again. "Thirsty," she stated.

She watched the appearance of a slight smile on his face as he gazed down at her with an almost gentle quirk at the side of his mouth.

"Of course," he said, his warm eyes belying his formal stance.

As he made the move to leave and presumably fetch her a drink, she called, "Wait!" She looked at herself, her prone body, her heavy breathing. Again, wetting her lips, "I..." her voice rasped. Frustrated, she tried to arrange her jumbled thoughts. "I want to sit down," she whispered carefully, plaintively. She looked up at him expectantly.

This time he smiled. "Let me help you up," he said, just before she felt his arms wrap around her shoulders. Her fatigueness had her place her head against his slender frame and she inhaled the musky scent of aftershave and...something else. Something...

_Familiar?_

Something that nagged at her.

He braced her back against the headboard and carefully slipped her from his arms. She stared at him, his image almost blurred as he backs away.

"I'll be back with refreshments," he said, not unkindly.

She stared at him, knowing that there's something...something she's missing. She nodded her head slowly and watched as he disappeared through the doorway.

Taking a deep breath, she looked around and observed her surroundings. The images were blurry, distorted. She rubbed her eyes and felt the IV brush her arm. She looked at the back of her hand and followed the plastic tube's trail towards its source. It stood next to a night table where a pair of glasses rested. With deliberately slow movements, she reached for the pair and fitted them across her face.

_Much better, _she thought as she began to fully examine her surroundings. It was a simple room, elegantly furnished with antique furniture. She felt a slight breeze brush across her face and turned her head to see the open balcony door. She was about to attempt to get out of bed to look outside, when small tendrils of light-colored hair brushed her face. She touched the soft strands and looked at them closely.

She could feel the increase in her heartbeat as she stared at the unfamiliar color and, for the first time since she awoke, she looked down at herself. She noticed her pasty white skin, her short clipped nails, her silk pajamas. Nervously, she looked around again, biting her lip, searching for...something.

Something familiar.

Tamping down on the rising dread weighing heavily upon her, her keen eyes continued to take inventory of the room from the ornate full-length mirror, to the four poster bed she laid upon.

_These aren't hers._

Her heartbeat slowed to a manageable rhythm at that thought. The sound of footsteps interrupted her reverie as she saw the man come back with a glass of water on top of a tray in his hands.

"I trust this suits you," he said softly as he lowered the trey and hands her the glass.

Carefully, she clasped both hands around the icy glass and led it to her lips. The cold trickle of liquid swirled around her mouth and she felt herself cough as she tried to swallow.

"Not too fast," he admonished her, as he tapped her back.

She nodded and gave him back the glass. She felt his fixed gaze rest upon her and she looked at him questioningly.

"Yes?" she prodded.

"I just wanted to say," he began, "that it is good to have you back, Sir Integra."

She blinked at him.

_Integra?_

She continued to look at him in confusion, her thoughts whirling around her mind, and plain for anyone to see. A sharp pain starting from the back of her eyes going all the way through her head made itself felt as she struggled to say something...anything that makes some sort of sense. There was something she was missing. Right there...at the tip of her tongue. Something fleeting, almost lost, almost intangible. She needed to...remember. That's it. Remember.

_But...remember what?._

"Who..." she started, looking up at the man with a thinly veiled sense of alarm, "who are you?"

- - - - - - - - - -

Walter looked closely at his young charge, searching for signs of self-awareness in the ice blue eyes that stared back at him.

"Sir Integra," he began cautiously. He noticed her agitated movements at the sound of her name.

_Are you hurt?_ he wanted to ask. _In pain?_

"Are you...well?" he questioned instead.

_Because I will take care of you,_ he thought. _ I won't fail this time._

She looked up at him, warring expressions of frustration and....panic? crossing her features. He leaned down closer to her after placing the trey of water onto the night stand. His hand squeezed her shoulder gently as he prodded one more time, "Sir Integra."

He felt her wince away from his touch and he pulled his hand back, away from the bandages that covered the juncture between her neck and the rest of her body. He braced himself against the familiar sense of shame that washed over him in spades whenever he noticed her injuries. He had to focus. There was no time for self-recriminations. Those must be dealt with in his own time.

He was startled when both her hands reached out to clasp his tightly. She pulled him even closer, or at least tried as much as her dwindling strength would let her.

"Who. Are. You." she repeated with more intensity, her eyes meeting his stare.

And for one almost supremely inappropriate second, he wanted to laugh at the fates and the cards that they have dealt him. Just when he thought things could only get better, the Almighty plays a joke, a twist on all the hapless mortals.

"Sir Integra," he proceeded slowly, "My name is Walter and I am your...steward."

He watched as she tried to process and accept what he had just told her. If her wrinkled brows were any indication, her confusion was still present.

"You have known me all your life," he continued.

He saw the restless and shaky movements of her hands. "That is," she murmured, her head bowed, "impossible." She looked up to gauge his reaction. "I don't know you," she stated.

Quickly trying to digest what she said, he thought back on all her injuries and vaguely wondered if she had suffered a blow to the head that they did not know about. And just as quickly, he discarded the notion. Their physicians were very thorough. No sooner had that thought been discarded, the implications of her words started to sink in.

He lifted her face with his fingers and looked at her eyes for the sure knowledge and easy confidence that often glittered in their depths.

_Nothing._

Not empty exactly. The keen intelligence and inherent stubbornness remained; but the self-possession, the usual drive and thirst for justice were missing. In their place was the wary and defensive stance often associated with the a fight-or-flight response.

"Sir Integra," he said her name again, hoping against hope to jostle some response from her, "do you...know who you are?"

"Of course," she replied immediately. "I am..." She paused, biting her lip. "I am," she attempted the second time, "I am..."

He watched as she struggled for that elusive information. He waited. Minutes passed.

"You are Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing," he said quietly, "and you are the leader of the Hellsing Organization."

- - - - - - - - - -

She shook her head in an absent denial. "I can't...seem to remember," she said, as if talking to herself.

_The Hellsing Organization._

The man, Walter, he had to be lying. If she was...this person, she would know. Wouldn't she? Something should click, should fit...like a puzzle. Instead, his name and her supposed name incited no flash of recognition, no sense of deja vu. But then, neither could she recall anything else for that matter. All there is was an abyss.

She needed to think. SHE NEEDED TO THINK. There has to be an explanation.

She looked back at Walter. Can she trust him? Dare she trust him? More importantly, did she have any choice? She looked down at her self, once again made aware of her unaccustomed weakness. She was...vulnerable--a position, she was sure, she should have never allowed herself to be in. Her heart started to race again at all the possibilities.

She needed to plan. To gather information herself. Information she can trust. First hand knowledge.

Right now, however, she had to wait and tamp down on her impatience. She was weak, an invalid, if her bandages were any indication. She had no choice.

"What happened?" she asked steadily, consciously evening her breath as well has her voice. "What happened to me?"

- - - - - - - - - -

Walter observed the inner struggle of conflicting responses in her face. And, with a remote voice, he told her in detail the events of the past two weeks.

To be continued.


	2. Part Two: Master and Servant

**Of Honor and Duty - a Hellsing Fanfiction**

_**Part Two: Master and Servant  
**_

Walter shut the door gently behind him as he exited the room. With his hand remaining in the knob, he leaned against the frame and silently let out the string of profanities he had been holding in check. Perhaps he had told her too much on this first encounter. Perhaps he shouldn't have gone beyond letting her know why she ended up so cut up that...his thoughts trailed. But how could he explain the attack without letting her know who she was? What she was? Then again, perhaps he should have said more right then and there. Maybe he should have mentioned Alucard. Thinking back to their conversation, he wasn't sure whether he could have burdened her any more than he did. He remember seeing the stricken look on her face when he revealed...Alucard must be informed of this latest development at once, of course. There were no secrets that that vampire did not know about this organization and Walter was certain that this new development will not escape his notice.

The rest of the world, however, was another matter. They could not afford for outsiders to discover Sir Integra's amnesia. Too much was at stake. He could only imagine the responses from different factions if knowledge of their current circumstances became well-known. As if the intermittent presence of Iscariot, a Catholic organization, in England was not troublesome enough; he was sure that any hint of weakness in the Hellsing Organization would further spur Iscariot's attempts at establishing a stronghold here in his country. And unfortunately, Sir Integra's current state was just that--a weakness they could not afford.

As he started to walked down the hallway from her bedroom, his thoughts turn to the Knights of the Round Table. Another complication. More often than not, he wondered whether they were more of a threat to the Organization than any freaks or schemes of the Iscariot. He knew from his discussion with Sir Integra that she herself held them with little trust or regard. Of course, that could very well be her own reaction to their barely hidden resentment at her mantle of leadership. It had been his experience that men, particularly older men, were ill at ease at the thought of a woman, particularly an attractive younger woman, more powerful and more competent than they were. It was perhaps to their dismay that the Knights have found themselves to be ill-prepared and ill-equipped to deal with the growing number of undead without the expertise of the Hellsing Organization and its current director.

Now, with Sir Integra the way she is, he wondered at the course of action the Knights would take in regards to Hellsing. Should they realize that Sir Integra now lacks over a hundred years of historical vampiric knowledge gleaned from her precedents, would they act on their petty jealousies and insecurities? Would they involve the Queen? Would a new director for the Hellsing Organization be assigned on the pretense of a 'temporary' replacement? More importantly, would there even be a Hellsing Organization that is a separate entity from the Knights themselves once they were through? He grimaced at the thought.

There had to be a way to keep everything within the confines of this manor. They just needed time. Time for him to teach Sir Integra what she needed to know. Time for Sir Integra to regain her strength. And most of all, time for her to recover her memory. For he firmly believed that she would gain what she lost eventually. All they had to do was wait. The question now was whether they had the luxury of waiting.

* * *

Integra Hellsing stared at the door as it closed behind Walter. She forced her clenched fists to relax as she slowly repeated over and over in her mind what he had told her. His descriptions about herself, her actions, her way of thinking were so..._alien._ It was as if he were talking about someone else. Someone strong. Dedicated. Impassioned. All attributes which seemed so foreign to her.

Right now, any strong feelings she may have revolved around frustration and inadequacy. And why? Because, on the off chance that he WAS telling her the truth, and that she IS Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing, she was afraid that she couldn't be quite what they expected her to be. And, given the circumstances, how can she _really?_ With her faulty memory, she can't even remember her own name, let alone a personal crusade against the undead. She gave herself a slight bitter laugh. As unlikely as it sounded, his revelation of the existence of the undead was the one thing her mind was seemingly able to grasp without question. Of all the information he had been able to give her about herself, it was his stories of the undead which left a taste of truth in her mouth. _Of course_ the undead existed. To believe otherwise felt anachronistic.

The irony of it all did not escape her notice.

For some reason, if she were this Integra, her mind refused to open the doors that will lead to her acceptance of her identity. In her exhausted condition, she could only think of two reasons why that would be: one, she _wasn't _Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing and Walter was playing an elaborately sick game with her; two, she _was _Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing and her subconscious mind wanted to protect her from...something.

Something her mind could not deal with? Something her mind was afraid to deal with?

No. That did not sound right. From what few tidbits Walter had told her, she knew enough about Integra to know that fear was not the driving force of her existence. If anything, that was one emotion that did not fit. Or did it?

Her head started to hurt, as if someone was hammering against it. She moved her hands restlessly across her bed.

_God, I need to smoke._

She gave a surprised gasp as she realized her hands were absently searching for...a cigar?

"Huh," she sighed. Did she smoke? She must, right?

Once again she gave the room a cursory look. Nothing to indicate a smoking habit. No ashtrays or lighters. In fact, her room didn't even have the usually sweet and pungent smell that characterized the habit. Still...that was the first instance she'd had of something familiar.

Well woudn't you know? Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing had a small vice.

She was startled from her reverie by the slightly bitter edge on her thoughts. Was it be that she _jealous_ of her own identity? She must admit that one could not help but admire the actions of the woman described by Walter, but if that was her, then she should be...proud, right?

Except, she wasn't sure if it was her. All she had were the words of an old man, her only contact from the outside world thus far. She laid back down in the bed, her eyelids closing slightly. She needed to conserve her strength. She _needed_ to be stronger. And soon. There was a sense of urgency somewhere from deep inside her. And right now, that was all she could follow up on.

She yawned.

"Integra Hellsing," she whispered, rolling the name in her tongue as if to test it. Her eyes drifted shut and she dreamed of a thousand eyes watching over her.

* * *

Dusk had fallen when Walter felt a familiar presence behind him.

"Have you seen her?" he asked, glancing back from his work at the counter.

The vampire glided towards him, his red coat flapping even without the help of a breeze.

"Did you expect me not to?" was his mocking, always mocking reply.

While he was never quite certain as to the thoughts of the vampire before him, he could not doubt the loyalty he had exhibited towards Sir Integra this past decade. Although the master-servant relationship between the two had been mercurial to say the least, he knew that Alucard and Sir Integra had an understanding that went unsaid.

Walter allowed his shoulders to slump a little as he bowed his head and covered his face with his hands in exhaustion. "We have a situation," he said looking up at the vampire from his sitting position. They had to tread carefully. If he was to keep Sir Integra's condition from the world, he would need this vampire's help.

"I know," Alucard replied, slightly less mocking this time.

"Outsiders cannot know of this, Alucard," he continued.

Alucard gave a loud disbelieving laugh. "You're stating the obvious, Walter," he reprimanded. "Obviously she must not be allowed to interact with anyone until she's in command of her full faculties. Or at least can act like she's in command." He paused. "Otherwise, whatever would happen to your precious Organization?"

Walter ignored the gibe. "Allowances for her recovery should give us some time to teach her about her role," he stated.

"That should be interesting," Alucard injected, a slight smile curving on his mouth. "Either way, your political repercussions are none of my concern."

"We both know that amnesia or not, she is still your master, Alucard," Walter rebuked. "And I'm quite certain that her well-being is one of your primary concerns. So between the two of us, I'm sure we can get her back to running this Organization. After all, she is still Sir Integra Hellsing. Memory or not, her father's blood and that of all the Hellsings run in her veins. She will not fail in her duty."

Alucard was silent for the moment. "As I've said before, I have my own reasons for serving humans," he taunted. "Train her as you will, but that's not what I'm here for. As always, I will serve my master." And with that, he disappeared as unobtrusively as he came.

Walter stared at the last place Alucard was and let out a sigh. Things may just be more difficult than he had anticipated. Although he should have, Walter had not expected Alucard to find some unholy amusement to the whole situation. Right now, however, all he could do was worry about the things he could do something about. Like preparing a regimen for the next few days.

* * *

When Integra awoke this time, it was different from the gradual process that was the first time. Her eyes snapped open and she could feel the rush of adrenalin as her heart raced to warn her of something...watching her. Instantly alert, she slowly moved her head to the side, trying to see through the darkness. Her hands fumbled around her nightstand in search of her glasses, and at finding it, immediately perched it on top of her nose.

"Who's there?" she asked softly, awaiting for a response. "I know you're in here."

She struggled to rise, fighting with the blankets as she tried to push herself up. A noise by the balcony had her jerking quickly to one side, her arms flailing.

"Ow!" she grunted in pain as she felt the IV rip from the back of her hand. A warm trickle of blood dripped from the puncture of the needle. Able to push herself into a sitting position, she glanced around the room to find some way to stem the blood flow without using the sheets.

"You should be more careful with yourself," a voice said from the doorway.

She looked up, her hand forgotten, and saw a shadowy figure approach her from the frame.

_Funny_, she thought. She never heard the door open.

"And you are?" she prodded nervously. She could see the gleam of his yellow sunglasses as the light from the moon was reflected. She felt a shiver run down her spine at his slow approach. There was something about him that was...off.

"Why master," he taunted, his voice getting closer, "have you forgotten your servant?"

She jerked back because this time, she could have sworn he had whispered into her ear. She didn't even see him _move_ to be this close. Suddenly, she found herself staring up closely through those yellow glasses and into his red, red eyes. Her hands move to push him away only only to have him trap them in his own firm grip. She saw his eyes travel down the trail of blood from where she had ripped the IV.

"Let me go," she hissed at him as he brought her closer.

"In a bit," he responded just before she felt his tongue follow the trail of the dripping blood from her hand. She watched him in horror, almost paralyzed by the scene before her. She felt her breath catch and her heart pound madly against her rib cage as she saw the hint of sharp canine teeth.

"Ah," his voice broke her stupor, "I've not tasted this from you in over ten years, my master."

"Filthy, undead vampire!" she spat, her thoughts in turmoil, her face flushed. "Release me this instant!" _Who was he? And where the hell was Walter?_

He laughed at her fury as he did as she demanded. "As always," he said as he stepped back and bowed before her, "I do as you bid...master."

And in that moment an image flashed before her eyes. Images of a barely lit room. The same red coat and black haired man bowing before her in an almost parody of supplication. And in that same instant, the image was gone.

"You," she began to tremble, "who are you?"

He grinned at her a maniacal grin. "I am Alucard," he replied, "your most humble servant," he finished insincerely.

_Humble?_

"Ridiculous," she said in false bravado, "My family destroys your kind of filth." _At least, Walter claimed they do._ She cradled her hand against her chest. This creature was a vampire. One of the undead creatures she was supposed to hate. Yet...there was something about him. Somehow, this creature was able to tug something in her memory.

* * *

Alucard's eyes gleamed beneath his frames. _Ah, yes. Here was Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing of the Hellsing Organization._ He had been unsure whether he would find the same fire in this lost woman. He first discovered that his master lost her memory upon his own awakening that evening. While the master-servant bond between them could be felt as strongly as ever, there was something missing. It took a few seconds for him to determine that the missing piece of the puzzle was Integra. In the decade that they've known each other, he had become accustomed to her mind's subconscious brush on his own. Knowing that she had awakened, that she was conscious, he had naturally expected the same touch. Almost like a greeting. Instead, he had found silence. As if that weren't puzzling enough, his own attempts at communicating to her with his mind were resoundly blocked by a mind barrier that he was sure she had placed, whether consciously or subconsciously. Fascinated, he had entered her room to find her asleep, reinforcing his belief that all her barriers was subconsciously placed.

He gave a little smirk as he recalled his meeting with Walter. Walter need not have worried about his cooperation regarding his master. In the end, her well-being was his well being. Furthermore, he didnt' trust any other human at this time to run the Hellsing Organization--a group which, as an ironic twist of fate, had the same goals that he had in regards to these cheap imitations. These man-made vampires, barely touched by the curse.

"My master," he replied to her, "let me be the first to educate you about the differences between a true vampire and those lower-than-scum beings we've been executing lately."

Her eyes glittered. "Differences?" she repeated disbelievingly. "A vampire is a vampire is a vampire."

He laughed. His master always knew which buttons to push. He's not even surprised that she stumbled over this little...pet-peeve of his regarding these man-made parasites. Of course, she hardly knew what she was talking about. At least, he didn't think she did. He frowned. This mind barrier was going to have to go.

He approached her bed again, this time lifting her up in his arms as soon as he was close enough. He heard the slight catch of her breath and felt the heat flood her cheeks. He braced himself from her retaliatory assault to his high-handedness, but he might as well had saved his energy. Her attempts to elude him were pathetic and weak at best. She really needed to gain her strength.

"What are you doing!" she demanded furiously. He could see the tinge of embarrassment color her face as well as hear it in her voice.

He grabbed some of the blankets from her bed and proceeded to walk them outside her balcony by the patio chairs. He placed her as gently as he could in one of the chairs and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. He stared down at her and said, "I believe I will begin our lessons right now." His hand made a careless gesture to their surroundings. "You need the fresh air."

"Liar," she grumbled. "You wanted to get back at me for that vampire remark I made and decided to exert yourself by doing something you know would irritate the hell out of me."

"If you knew," he replied condescendingly, "then why ask?" He plopped himself in the chair across her and crossed his arms. "You're not going to sulk, are you?"

He saw her outraged expression and gave himself a small pat in the back. "Now, why don't you just sit back, relax, and--"

"Think of England?" she interjected, a snicker obvious in the curve of her mouth. "Or perhaps the Queen? Sounds like I'm about to get royally --"

He laughed, interrupting the rest of her words. Really, she was a delight. He had thought so when she was an emperial thirteen year old and had continued to think so in the following years of verbal sparring and outright challenges. He was, however, somewhat surprised to find that he still found her delightful even without her memory. To be perfectly frank, he attributed his actual _liking_ of the Hellsing director on the fact that he had in some way helped shape and mold her into the adult she had become. Now, the thought that he might actually like _this_ woman, a woman who had no memory of him, was damn disturbing.

He held up his hands. "Just lessons for tonight," he promised. He leaned closer to her, fully knowing that it made her nervous and agitated. "I won't hurt you," he began in a low voice. "You must _know_ that I _am_ your servant. As much as I hate my servitude, as much as you loathe it at times, this bond between us just _is_." He stared into her eyes, trying to will her to understand. He watched her eyes flicker with both self-disgust and self-loathing at his words. He tried to brush away the small pang of emotion he felt at that look. "But perhaps that story is for another day."

He leaned back against his chair. "Now," he began in a more light-hearted manner, "about these bottom-feeders of the earth. And no, I'm not talking about the Iscariot. I'm actually referring to these man-made vampires who have disgraced those of us from a true line."

"Huh?" confusion was evident in her expression.

He nodded. "Yes, master, we have a lot to cover."

* * *

From his position in the doorway, Walter let out a small sigh of relief.

To be continued.


	3. Part Three: Lessons and Doubts

**Of Honor and Duty - a Hellsing Fanfiction**

**_Part Three: Lessons and Doubts_**

Days passed in a hazy blur of facts, endurance, and tolerance. Integra walked the hallways of her home cautiously. This was really the first time she had been alone for awhile, with that Walter and that vampire trailing her every move. Her hand glided across the smooth railing as she made her way to the staircase. Night was coming soon and she knew that the vampire would make his way towards her as he had every night this past week. She had yet to find a place where she could be alone, where no one could follow her and test her and taunt her and...

She clenched her fists. That vampire. If she didn't know any better, she would have said that he was put on this earth for the sole purpose of her eternal torment. She gave a bitter smile as she slowly walked down the steps. What was she _thinking_? She _didn't_ know any better. That was the problem, the source of both her uneasiness and frustration. As much as Alucard and Walter had revealed to her about herself and the Hellsing Organization, she still felt bereft, adrift. Securely contained within the walls of the manor for her protection (or so they said), she had felt distanced from every aspect of the outside world. Her only sources of information were Walter, Alucard, and the media. Walter and Alucard, for all their seemingly good intentions, were not trustworthy. They were hiding something from her; she knew it, they knew it. In fact, she would even bet that they knew that she knew. She shook her head once she reached the landing. These days, she confused even herself. As for the media, she didn't know why, but she was even more distrustful of that group than she was of Walter and Alucard.

She looked around, twisting her head to the side. She gave a small grunt of irritation as she was reminded of that one of two bandages she was left with even after seeing the doctor several days ago. She touched the gauzy strips absently and remembered Walter's voice.

"_Sir Integra," he had said. "These injuries," he touched the juncture between her neck and shoulders, "these were partially self-inflicted."_

She bit her lip.

_Self-inflicted._

It felt...wrong. Oh, not the fact that she had hurt herself. Strangely enough, that wasn't what felt wrong to her. What felt wrong was the fact that she had hated something so thoroughly, with such all-consuming passion; and yet here she was, almost apathetic to the duties Walter described.

She started walking towards the main hall and towards the doorway outside. It wasn't that she thought little of her position in life. Quite the contrary. Protecting the unknowing population from hidden monsters was a noble and noteworthy cause. Being the leader of an organization with such important mission should be an honor bestowed only to the deserving. A crusader, even.

But was she a crusader? Did she have the necessary passion to fulfill her duties? She clenched her jaw at the utter wretchedness of her thoughts. She was better than this. She was stronger, more willful. Wasn't she? Every so often, during her lessons with Walter, she wondered at the life of the woman whose shoes she now wore. What did she like? What did she do in her spare time? _Did _she have spare time? Who were her real friends, and her real comrades? What _drove _her? What made her want to live and what made her want to die? So many questions, too many questions, all the time circling her mind.

She rubbed her fingers against her temple just as she opened the door outside. These headaches were coming more often these past few days. Perhaps she should have mentioned them to Dr. Trevelyan. Stepping outside, she blinked rapidly at the disappearing twilight and breathed in the fresh air. The manor, with its thick walls and austere décor, wasn't the brightest of places to live. It needs more light. Or rather, enough light so that she didn't feel blinded every time she stepped outside at dusk.

"Sir Integra," Walter called behind her.

She winced. _No more lessons, please, _her mind rebelled. If she had to look at another photograph of some Knight whom she was supposed to know, she was going to seriously consider hurting someone. Covering her disappointment at not getting out of the manor undetected, she turned to him and said, "Yes?"

Walter gave her a small, understanding smile. "Just within the grounds," he restricted. "Not outside the gates."

With a sigh of relief, she nodded at his stipulation and made a beeline for the gardens before he changed his mind. That man was obsessive. She didn't think he would be satisfied until she had the entire Knights' dossiers and all the mission briefs memorized by heart. He gave her lectures on family history, on European history and vampiric history. The man was a walking text-book. Fortunately, that wasn't all he was so his lessons weren't always so dry.

By the time she reached the middle of the house gardens, twilight had arrived, and she felt the subtle shift in the atmosphere, the slight thickening of air around her. These past few days, she had learned what these signals imply—that Alucard' was searching for her. In the beginning, she had thought the slight changes to be that of his awakening. After all, they often occurred just after sunset. Lately, however, she realized something else.

Alucard rarely, if ever, slept. He might not show himself much during the day, but he's there. Watching her, guarding her. And that was the most disconcerting piece of discovery she had made this past week.

"Sir Integra," a voice called behind her.

She turned abruptly, surprised at the sound of a female voice. She had expected Alucard to be the one to bother her and yet in front of her is...

_Seras Victoria. _The other vampire who served her Organization. Daughter of Alucard's line. She looked closely at the girl, and her red, red eyes. Surprisingly, she looked harmless, innocent almost, except for the fact that she carried her weapon like a pro. _Like a child playing with dangerous toys,_ she thought as she stared at the weapon the girl had in hand.

She saw the girl squirm uncomfortably under her gaze. "Yes?" she replied, perturbed. Why did this vampire look so...discomfited?

"I just," she started, looking down at the ground, "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Integra's eyes narrowed. What was the girl sorry for? She wracked her brain for anything Walter or Alucard might have told her this past week that related to this girl.

_Nothing._

"What for?" she asked, curious. Was this girl informed of her memory loss? No, she can't be. Walter and Alucard had told her that they kept it from everyone else, except from a man named Peter Fargason.

Seras laid her weapon on the ground. It made an audible THUNK, giving Integra a hint of just how heavy it was.

"What are you sorry for?" Integra asked again. The girl really did look uncomfortable now. There was that hint of vulnerability in her eyes despite their vampiric color. She shook her head. Again, what was she thinking? Vulnerable? This girl was a vampire! She could cut her in half if she had wanted to.

Still, there was something about her.

- - - - - - - - - -

"I...I should have been able to protect my master's master," Seras whispered softly, underneath her breath, her head bowed. "I...I'm trying not to be worthless," she continued, her voice cracking.

She should have been strong enough, good enough, to overcome a Walter who was under the influence of dark magic. She should have been able to go to that room, break down the door. They had been moments, just moments away.

But she said none of those words. Instead, she fell silent, awaiting the harsh comment on her abilities, her uselessness at being vampire.

"What do you mean?" Sir Integra's voice came through. "Walter told me what happened between the two of you," she continued, her voice so reasonable.

Seras looked up, half-expecting the usual frown that accompanied Sir Integra's visage when she looked upon the vampire that Alucard made. "It's because I wasn't strong enough," Seras said carefully. "If I had drank blood regularly—"

She was interrupted by Sir Integra's laugh. "You expect me to reprimand you for not wanting to drink blood?" the Hellsing director asked her.

Seras looked at her in askance. Wasn't that the point? Wasn't that the main complaint of the director regarding her performance? With her excellent hearing, she had heard Sir Integra (in more than one occasion, mind you) berate Alucard for making a useless vampire who can't even take care of herself.

"Look," continued Sir Integra at her silence, "this," she said pointing at her injured neck, "was mostly my doing. You weren't the one who took a knife and drove it down my throat. In fact, you weren't even the cause of my taking a knife and driving it down my throat. So, the way I see it, if anyone's at fault for this injury, it would be me and that bitch of a vampire who so convinced me and Walter that I actually had a sister."

Seras stared. She didn't think she's ever heard Sir Integra say that much to her in all the time she's worked for the Hellsing Organization. Was Sir Integra actually trying to make her feel...better?

"Police-girl," her master's voice came in her head, just before he appeared before the two of them. "Police-girl," he repeated out loud this time. "Shouldn't you be with your unit right now?" he asked, his voice reprimanding. He placed his body between her and Sir Integra, his stance almost protective.

She bowed her head and nodded, "Yes, Master." She picked up her Halconnen and with one last look at Sir Integra, made her way to the others.

They were hiding something.

She just knew it.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Watching the back of Seras disappear beyond the gardens, Integra turned to face the vampire, her eyes irate. "Why did you do that?" she asked, stepping back from his presence. Did he _always _stand this close to her?

His eyes looked down at her through his yellow frames. "What do you mean?" he asked, his gaze narrowing.

She would have stepped even further away from him, his closeness sending prickles of energy dancing in her skin, when she noticed the satisfactory smirk in his face. Standing her ground determinedly—she would not let this filthy vampire get the best of her—she pointed at the point where Seras disappeared. "You belittled her," she accused, indignant for the girl. There had been something endearing about Seras, something sad.

Alucard laughed. "You're defending Police-girl?" he asked incredulously, his fingers pulling her chin upwards so that she looked at him. "Might I remind you, Master, that you are usually the one quick to point out her faults and liabilities."

Integra turned her head, slapping his hand away. What he said may be true. She didn't know, did she? So instead of replying to his taunt, she hissed instead, "Don't touch me!" Why did he always have to touch her? And why _had _she been defending the vampire-girl? She's nothing but another creature of impure blood. Right?

_I...I should have been able to protect my master's master._

She closed her eyes as Seras's words came back to her.

_I...I should have been able to protect..._

_Protect._

There was something about that girl. Maybe it was the innocence and the vulnerability. Maybe it was the sadness that enveloped the girl like a cloak. The wariness in her eyes. Whatever it was, it made Integra want to _protect_.

But protect what? The vampire rookie? It was laughable. _She _was laughable. Given her current state of mind, she couldn't even protect herself.

She started to walk back towards the house, away from Alucard's presence. The vampire had a way of confusing things, of confusing _her. _His knowing looks, his mocking words, his roundabout lessons, and his disturbing presence were more than she wanted to deal with at this time.

- - - - - - - - - -

Alucard watched the retreating back of his master, his pride seething at her disregard. What was the matter with her this time? One would think he would be used to it by now. No matter how much he taught her, how much knowledge he imparted, he was still just another vampire FREAK in this one's eye. The realization that she thought less of him than before was a bitter pill to swallow. That he would even care what that human thought of him! And yet here he was, almost begging for some scraps of her attention. The indignity of it all.

He made a move to follow her because...well, because he could do nothing else. He had known that she had felt hounded by him; after all, he came to her every night. He had tried to give her time and space to adjust to the existence of their relationship, if one could call it that. But every night, he would find himself heading towards her balcony or her office, depending on where she was. He would push at her, prod at her, in an effort to solicit some sort of response, maybe even a memory. He admitted that he baited her, perhaps more often than he should. But right now, those were the only times that she seemed to show some sort of emotion, of passion. At one point, he had thought that she began to silently enjoy their verbal sparring almost as much as she had before her memory loss. He had certainly done so.

However, there were times when he would catch that look in her eyes when she thought of him. It was those times when he knew she wondered why Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing had not destroyed him yet. It was those times when he knew she wondered what the hell she was doing entertaining a vampire in her home.

He followed her in the shooting gallery and he almost gave a nod of approval. Walter had told him that he had introduced her to usual weapons of choice two days ago. From what he heard, his master took to it quite well. Except for the slight shakiness that was a result of her condition, her aim still proved true. He stood behind her as she loaded her gun, just watching her every move.

"Don't you have FREAKS to tend to?" she threw at him under her breath. "Must you follow me everywhere?"

"I go at your orders, Master," he replied. "And since you aren't fit to give those yet," he let his voice trail with a shrug. "Besides, your men can usually handle the usual trash of ghouls and FREAKS, and with Police-Girl there, they're more equipped than most units."

"Suit yourself," she said, still attempting to ignore him. She took aim and fired at her target.

"I always do," he said, his voice drowned out by the sound of gun firing. He watched her target with silent approval. Like before, there was only one hole where all her bullets had passed through, and as usual, her aim was true.

When the sounds finally stopped, he approached her, gliding across the room to stand behind her.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, looking at the gun in her hand. He could see the signs of slight fatigue settle in her frame.

"What is?" he asked, his mouth close to her ear. He felt her cringe away from him, but he stood his ground.

She turned to face him. He knew she hated having him behind her, where she couldn't see him. He watched her lips move as she started to answer him only to pause and move back. Something flashed in her eyes. Slowly, she raised her gun and pointed it to his heart. With her head tilted in one side, she said, "I've done this before." There was a hint of wonder in her voice, a hint of excitement at discovery.

Aware of the feel of steel against his chest, he leaned down to her and whispered to her ear. "Yes," he replied. "Do you remember?"

- - - - - - - - - -

Integra felt her breath quicken and her heart pound madly against her chest. It was so fast, that flash of memory. She barely had time to grasp it.

"Would you like to give it another try?" he asked, his voice calm. He was close, too close to her. What was he doing? What was he asking?

Her hands started to shake when to her surprise, one of his own hands held her and steadied them. He held her hands and her gun, there against his heart. She gasped and looked up at him. She found him staring at her with his steady gaze.

"Do it," he said calmly. "Maybe then, you'll remember more."

Her eyes glittered. Was he insane? He wanted her to shoot him so she could remember more? She tried to disengage her hands from his.

"Do it," he said more firmly, his eyes taking on a maniacal glint, his hands holding hers more tightly.

With greater effort now, she tried to free her hands. Stupid, really, since she knew consciously that his greater strength made her struggles futile. Still, she attempted, because to not do so would be to give up. And she never gave up.

"You're insane," she whispered and winced at the slight tremor in her voice.

"Haven't you thought about it?" he taunted her, digging her gun even more firmly against him. "Haven't you thought about blowing a great big hole in my heart?" he reiterated. "Now's your chance, my Master. Do it." He pressed her more intimately against his body as his voice offered a temptation to her soul.

She tried to look away from that all-knowing smile that seemed to guess at her secrets, but her gaze was held by his and his dark purpose. And it was then that she felt small tendrils of...something, slip underneath her hands, and over her hands, covering her grip over the gun. She looked down at the black forms that coated her flesh before looking right back up at Alucard. "What are you doing?" she demanded, a slight thread of fear underlying her demand.

He grinned at her his usual mocking grin. "I'll help you," he whispered down to her. Slowly, ever so slowly, she felt her fingers squeeze the trigger.

_And she squeezed the trigger for the first time pointed at something other than her target practices. She fired and she fired despite the burning pain in her arm and the aching of pain of grief in her heart. _

_Is this what you protect me with, Father? she had asked. A vampire?_

And with a bright flash of light, she felt herself jerked backward at the impact on such close range. She felt herself fall, falling backward against the floor. The fragment of memory, so fresh in her mind, melded with the reality of her own actions. Her back hit the ground hard, jostled her with pain and brought her mind back to the present. She laid there for a second, staring at the dark ceiling before lifting her hands up to look at the gun. She tasted the metallic scent that clung in the air just as she pushed herself up to a sitting position to see Alucard.

To her surprise, the vampire remained where she left him, standing by her feet. His glittering inhuman eyes stared down at her as she watched his body reform and regenerate.

"I told you before, my Master," he said solemnly, "I am not one of your FREAKS." And with that, he stepped away from her and disappeared from her sight.

She didn't know how long she sat there, alone with her own thoughts, staring at the point where he left.

- - - - - - - - - -

Walter had meant to call out and announce his presence, but something had told him as he stared at Alucard's reforming figure and Sir Integra's avid gaze that his presence might be unwelcome at that time. So he turned his back to the pair and made his way to the kitchens. Dinner would be a little late that night.

To be continued.


	4. Part Four: Judas in the Midst

**Of Honor and Duty - a Hellsing Fanfiction**

**_Part Four: Judas in the Midst_**

Father Enrico Maxwell laid the phone gently in its cradle, a thoughtful look in his face. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping, tapping rhythmically in his desk. The information he received was reliable, always had been and always will be until his little bug was discovered and, of course, eliminated. What to do with the information, however, was what he might consider daunting. He turned his back from his desk and swiveled his chair to face the window and the setting sun on the horizon.

An amnesiac Integra Hellsing. The possibilities were endless. Knowing that sow's distrustful nature, he was quite sure that even the indomitable Walter and her pet vampire were having quite a difficult time with their patient. The question now was, how much did Hellsing actually believe? How much had she been informed? His sources told him that even the Knights were uninformed, something he found most curious. They must expect a full recovery soon.

Or perhaps someone was being overly optimistic?

Either way, he could not let a chance like this slip by. An Integra Hellsing without her full loyalties to Queen and country could be useful to the Iscariot Organization. He turned back to his desk when he heard a knock in his door.

"Come in," he said, looking up expectantly. He smiled as Paladin Alexander Anderson stepped in. The man was wonderfully prompt, not to mention immensely useful. As he looked up at Anderson with a knowing smile, the beginnings of a plan took shape in his mind. "Anderson," he greeted the regenerator. "There's a special assignment for you in England."

Anderson spat. "That country cannot take care of its own vermin," he replied scathingly.

"Quite right," Enrico replied, always happy to hear his opinions reflected. "But this assignment is not quite the usual hunting of FREAKS," he continued. He paused. Will it work? Could it work? This was a big chance he was taking.

But, the rewards might just be worth it.

"Think of this mission as more of a search and rescue mission," he began, a plan fully formed in his brain. "We need to teach Wendy how to fly."

- - - - - - - - - -

Integra stared at the files before her, the photographs, the reports, each account more horrific than the ones before.

"It is very similar to what happened in Cheddar village, Sir Integra," Walter said. "As usual, the 'proper' authorities have failed to inform of us this incident until it has become this widespread. At this time, we are looking at perhaps the total annihilation of Childers Village."

She glanced once more at the photograph of the FREAK responsible for the massacre. It was taken obviously before he was changed. It was a family picture, taken at Christmas time. He was an average looking man with a beautiful wife and two cherubic-looking children. The picture was an epitome of a perfect family setting over the holidays.

"The man was the new sheriff of the village over two months ago, and according to reports, had been doing quite an adequate job," reported Walter. He gave a small smile. "Criminals just seem to disappear from their little community. Of course, not long after that, small children and villagers themselves had started disappearing, too. By the time the local authorities realized the ghoul infestation, Childers was overrun."

She smoothed her hand over the photographs and spread them out even more at her desk. As much carnage there was in most of the pictures, her attention kept wandering back to that family picture. Why did monsters like to hide behind the innocent façade? The world would have been a much simpler place if monsters always looked like monsters.

"I know I sent Alucard to Cheddar village," she stated, reiterating one of the hundreds of files Walter had had her learn, "before our troops came in."

"Yes," replied Walter. "Due to the gravity of the situation, you deemed it fit that Alucard strike the first blow."

Looking down at the pictures, she said, "As you said, Walter, this looks like much of the same situation. I'll...send Alucard at once." Her voice held steady, even at the thought of actually having to give orders to the vampire. "However," she continued, "I would like to be there when our men come."

She waited for Walter to gainsay her, and in fact, had even prepared an argument for such an occasion. Instead, she watched as he held her gaze and said, "Of course, Sir Integra." With surprise evident in her eyes, he continued, "I will get the driver ready."

Integra stared at the closed door, agape. Truth be said, she had expected some sort of resistance from her self-appointed tutor.

"You'll have to hide your emotions better than that, Master," Alucard's voice floated in as he appeared through the wall.

She yelped before she could help herself. She really ought to demand he wear some sort of bell around his neck. These sudden appearances of his and her unfailing alarm at his presence had got to stop.

"Shouldn't you be going somewhere right now?" she asked peremptorily, in a vain attempt to collect herself. Damn him!

Alucard drifted towards her desk, his eyes giving the photographs a quick glance. "Walter obeys your orders to the fullest," he replied, ignoring her question. "You really should not be surprised when he does as you ask."

She looked away. How could she explain to this creature of self-assurance the doubts that constantly plague her ever since she woke up to this nightmare? She, Integra Wingates Hellsing was supposed to be a woman of self-confidence. She would be damned before exposing such a weakness.

At her silence, Alucard continued, "So, you feel well enough to go visit the front lines, do you?" he questioned.

As always, with the vampire, Integra felt herself in the defensive. "Yes," she replied abruptly. Perhaps it was a good thing she had prepared a rational, reasonable argument for her going after all. Maybe Alucard was the one to give it to. "I am well enough," she repeated, her chin up, almost...daring him to say otherwise.

He gave a low chuckle, again that same knowing and irritating smile, full of secrets and hidden knowledge. She was coming to hate that smile.

Shaking her head in disgust, she asked again, "Shouldn't you be on your way to Childers by now?" Her demand came out harsher and more petulant than she expected. She cursed herself silently.

Alucard let out small grunt at her attempt, and then a sigh. "As my master bids—" he began only to have her interrupt him.

"And please remember not to bring home any strays this time," she interjected callously.

"—So I obey," he continued, as if not hearing her. He gave a small pause before completely disappearing, his eyes emoting...reproach?

No, it can't be.

"I'll see you at Childers, Master" his voice drifted. And with that and a slight gust of wind, he was gone.

She slammed her hands against her table at his departure. What was it about him that raised her hackles? Only he could make words of obeisance sound like a slap in the face. Just what was the nature of his service to her?

"Sir Integra," Walter's voice came from behind the door. She glanced up in time to see the door open and Walter come in. "The driver is ready," he informed her. "You and the men will be waiting just in the outskirts of the village for Alucard's arrival, signaling his completion of his part of the mission.

She nodded in response, her mind going back to the task at hand. They had a village to destroy, after all.

- - - - - - - - - -

Walter watched as his employer made her way out of the office, her movements jerky, almost agitated. He sighed. Alucard must have just been there. With the inundation of information he had put Sir Integra through, that vampire was the only one who could disconcert his employer enough to unbalance her.

He picked up her coat from the rack and held it to her wordlessly. He knew that both her shoulder and her side still bothered her a little and chores like donning coats had been a test of endurance near the beginning of her recovery. She gave him a smile of acknowledgement as she allowed herself to be helped.

"Would you," he began, then paused, uncertain whether he should continue, "would you like me to accompany you?" he asked. He felt her shoulders stiffen underneath his hands.

She buttoned up her coat and gave a quick glance on the mirror before turning to look at him. "That won't be necessary," she replied evenly. "It's a routine mission; I believe I can handle myself adequately."

And that, of course, was that. He watched as she made her way outside, her steps careful and deliberate. From the balcony, he watched as she slid behind the backseat after the door was held open for her by one of the men. He watched her give her thanks to the man, just before some sixth sense must have told her to look up and meet his eyes. She tried to give him a reassuring smile. Or at least, he would like to believe that she did. As the car sped away following an entourage of their own men in full battle gear, he wondered once again whether he would be able to stop the strangling worry he now had ever since her close call. If this house of cards they had ever fell, who would lead the Hellsing Organization?

As he made his way to the control room, his busy mind tried to analyze their situation. Sir Integra had no heir, and had made no apparent effort to remedy the situation prior to her memory loss. For any other twenty-three year old woman, that particular detail could be set aside for many more years, approximately a couple of decades even. Unfortunately for Sir Integra, there was the Hellsing Organization to consider. On a more personal note, Sir Integra had shown no apparent interest on starting a family or even finding a husband. Whether this was due to simply a lack of desire for the whole package or a lack of time, Walter did not know. What he did know was that the close call Sir Integra had brought home the question regarding the leadership of the Hellsing.

In previous generations, there had always been an odd relative here or there, ensuring that the mantle of leadership always belonged to a Hellsing. It was in Sir Hellsing's time that the number of possible Hellsing heirs was at an all time low of two—Richard and Integra. With Sir Hellsing's brother dead without any children, Integra was the last of her line. This presented two possible difficulties at the event of her unexpected demise: one, for the first time since its creation, the director of the Hellsing Organization would be someone other than a Hellsing; two, Alucard's tie to the Organization would be severed.

While the first one was almost unthinkable for him, the second one was even more disturbing. He was not aware of all the particulars regarding the bond of servitude between Alucard and the Hellsings, but he knew enough about it to realize that the ties were that of blood. And not just the blood of any Hellsing would do either (otherwise, Richard might have been able to save himself that fateful day). No, there was something else. Something that involved the willful passing of leadership from one Hellsing to the next. Unfortunately, his knowledge on that subject was severely limited. Sir Hellsing did have his secrets.

Once in the control room, he nodded to Sergeant Harding, the current man on duty for this aspect of security. His focus went to the many screens displaying various parts of the manor, both inside and outside.

"Anything new?" he asked, his manner off-hand.

"Nothing much," came the reply. "I was just about to call someone to close the equipment room. I just noticed that it was left open."

Walter frowned and looked at the screen currently showing the display. Everyone knew that doors were to always be closed from the outside. This applied to the manor, the barracks and various training facilities and equipment storage areas.

"I'll do it," he said, a little tersely, a little peeved at the oversight. There were reasons why rules were put in place in an operation such as theirs. "I should be back by the time they reach the rendezvous point."

As he headed towards the area, something nagged at his brain. At this time, Alucard was the only one to fully know the details of his servitude to the Hellsings. In fact, Walter was not even sure if Sir Integra had known completely as to what the bond entailed before her amnesia. And now, well, she only knew as much as Alucard willingly revealed. His thoughts trailed as he could only imagine what the vampire would reveal and deliberately leave out.

Now, about this equipment room. Why would the equipment room be open at this time? Everything needed had been taken out this morning during the routine training sessions. And if it were left open this morning, he was sure Sergeant Harding or the previous man on duty would have noticed before now...

- - - - - - - - - -

As he walked the quaint little streets that were littered with decapitated bodies, he extended all his senses, searching for his prey. There was a rare stillness in the night, as if Mother Nature herself felt the wrongness in the small village. Just beyond the horizon, he could hear the shuffling movement of ghouls, deceptively aimless in their rhythm. He could see the unnatural rustle of the trees, betraying their direction. The putrid stench of death, decay, and infection was so prevalent as to be deliberate.

He smiled. If the little FREAK thought he could cover his tracks by overpowering his hunter's sense of smell, he had another surprise coming at him. He gave full grin. He loved teaching those FREAKs a lesson well-deserved. There was nothing quite as satisfying as that moment when his prey realizes the extent of their helplessness at the face of a true vampire. He supposed he should feel pity for these ignorant humans who gave up their mortal lives for the taste of power and blood, only to find out their utter inadequacy at the face of real power. If not for the fact that their very existence was abhorrent to him, then maybe he would.

He slowed his pace when he noticed the subtle shift in his surroundings. He grinned. So the FREAK has decided to approach him on his own instead of sending his ghouls after him. A bold move on the FREAK's part, but also absolutely foolish. Still, it did save him time he might have wasted having to destroy the ghouls. He will let his master's men take care of those. Now, for this FREAK—

Without of break in his stride, his arm elongated backwards, shooting straight at the FREAK's heart. He grabbed that ugly, pulsing organ that defied nature and crushed it with his fingertips. Without looking, without even having to see his prey, he knew that this mission was over for him. He gave a disgusted shake of head; he barely expended any energy to destroy the FREAK. Even the limited release of his powers was unnecessary. These useless beings were more of a nuisance than any sort of real threat to him. But, nuisance they might be, they were still an abomination to his kind; they were a perversion made by men who played at being gods. His disgust for such creatures and their makers was boundless.

Disdain clouding his features, he headed back towards the rendezvous point to meet his master. At least there were no humans to complicate the mission this time; all of them had been turned into ghouls. Of all his assignments, this had been the most cut and dried. A sense of déjà vu swept through him.

Perhaps too cut and dried? Now that he thought about it, the whole thing felt almost...staged. As if any major complication that could occur had already been taken care of. A mission this simple and cut and dried...why was he even called to be here? There was something too routine about the whole event. The FREAK was not extraordinary in any sense. Police-girl and her unit could have easily taken care of it.

With a mounting feeling of dread, he tried to contact his master.

- - - - - - - - - -

Commander Peter Fargason was used to being in control of his unit. He ran a tight ship, even more so once he joined the Hellsing Organization. Which was why, upon learning that Sir Integra's car was not present at the rendezvous point, he immediately contacted Walter in headquarters to alert the man of a possible emergency. The thought of alternate arrangements being made without his knowledge never entered his mind. Sir Integra's car should have been there, and it wasn't.

Since he was the only man in his unit who knew that the Hellsing director would be observing them in this mission, he found a secure location to radio Walter without having to distract his men...and vampire for that matter.

"What do you mean he's busy?" he demanded on the speaker once he got hold of headquarters. "This is an emergency! Get him at once." What could be so important that Walter would be hard to reach?

"Sir," came the reply, "there is an emergency in the manor. Walter has discovered—"

"I'll take over from here," interrupted Walter. "Commander Fargason," he came through abruptly, "Please tell me that Sir Integra is with you."

"That's what I'm calling about," Peter said, a slight edge of frustration entering his voice. "She's not."

"Well, then," replied the stoic retainer, "we have a bigger problem than I had anticipated."

"She's not here, Walter," he said again, a slight edge entering his vioce. "Did you see the car follow us out of headquarters?"

"Yes, I did," came the reply. "I arranged for the driver to take her there with you. She should have arrived at exactly the same time you did."

"She was waylaid," Peter muttered tersely. _Waylaid._ "What's going on over there anyway?" he asked, curious.

He heard a sigh from the other end of the line. "It seems that we have been infiltrated," Walter answered. "And I am very sure that this has to do with Sir Integra's not being at the rendezvous point."

This was bad. Peter closed his eyes at the implications.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Alucard's frame approaching. "Alucard is here," he informed Walter.

"Apprise him of the situation," was Walter's immediate reply. "And tell him...tell him that—"

"Tell me what?" Alucard's voice interrupted.

Peter looked at him and saw the glitter in his eyes. "I'm sure you know by now that Sir Integra is missing," he stated under his breath.

"Alucard," Walter's voice floated in the radio, "I believe that Iscariot's regenerator is here."

"That Judas priest," muttered Alucard.

"Quite," replied Walter. "See what you can do about this," he instructed. "And Commander—"

"My unit will complete this mission," he interrupted, his voice laced with frustration. "We'll report back to headquarters as soon as it is completed."

"I'll make whatever arrangements I can regarding Sir Integra over here," agreed Walter. A pause. "Commander, I should also let you know that some of our men here have been injured."

Peter remained silent for the moment. "We'll finish here as soon as we can," he replied abruptly.

And amidst unspoken worry and frustration, both men ended their conversation.

He turned to Alucard. The vampire acknowledged him with a nod and a statement, "I still cannot reach her." He jerked his hand towards the village. "This feels like a set-up," hissed. "The FREAK was nothing extraordinary. All this man power for...puppets."

He looked at Alucard calmly and nodded in agreement. "Unfortunately, there's not much we can do at this time. My team will complete this mission as ordered by Sir Integra," he told him. "I'm sure you will work with Walter regarding this matter." He turned his back to the vampire and approached his men, all awaiting his orders. "In the Name of God, impure souls of the living dead shall be banished into eternal damnation. Amen."

- - - - - - - - - -

"Is everything in place?" Father Enrico Maxwell asked him from his office in Rome.

Alexander Anderson looked at the figure staring curiously at him. "Yes," he replied. "Wendy has flown."

To be continued.


	5. Part Five: The Willing Hostage

Author's note: all information/characterization is derived from anime and some information web sites. Apologies for anything that contradicts canon. It will most likely remain that way.

* * *

**Of Honor and Duty - a Hellsing Fanfiction**

**_Part Five: The Willing Hostage_**

Integra stared at the man before her. He was imposing in height and breadth for a human; but then, there was something about him that hinted at more. She peered at him closely through her glasses as he drove their little car to their destination. Their flight had arrived no more than an hour ago and to be honest, she was more than surprised at not being met by a car and a driver at the airport.

Not for the first time, she wondered at her lack of protest, her lack of resistance to this little jaunt to Rome. Based on what Walter and Alucard had revealed to her, she was quite sure that had she been in her full faculties, this little trip would be a trifle less sedate than what it was so far. In fact, she was quite sure that this man, Anderson was his name, would have had his hands full trying to get Sir Integra to go to Rome with him based on that little story he had.

But, as she was getting tired of repeating to herself, she was not in her full faculties. And, for all she knew, this man might be telling the truth.

Maybe.

To be honest with herself, his tale sounded even less believable than Walter's or Alucard's. Except…except…she did not quite trust herself. She did not trust her judgments, her instincts. At the moment, she was working fully on her rational side and her rational side was hopelessly ill-equipped given her condition.

And so here she was, on her way to Rome, sharing a vehicle with a complete stranger. Under normal circumstances, she was quite certain that she would never trust a stranger to take her some place. Did not every parent instill the distrust of strangers to their children from a very young age?

However, at this time, stronger than her distrust was her curiosity. This man offered to show her a world different than that of Walter's or Alucard's. Those two had such a colored view of the world that she often wondered how much of it were hers and how much of it were solely theirs. She wanted…no, she craved to know something outside of their sphere. If she were perfectly honest with herself, it was the temptation of knowing something outside of Alucard that piqued her interest. That vampire had such a all too knowing manner; it had the probability of driving her insane sometime soon.

"Did you want to ask me something?" Anderson asked her, interrupting her thoughts as he gave her a measure look.

"No," she replied cautiously, "not yet."

He gave a small laugh. "That's alright," he acknowledged almost ruefully, "but do you mind if I ask you some then?"

She gave a shrug. What could he possibly want to know that a certified amnesiac could tell him?

"I will take that as a 'yes,'" he said at her continued silence, his eyes peering at her periodically from the road. "I must say that I was very surprised at you," he began after a pause. "I had expected more of a fight when I asked that you join me in this little trip."

She gave him a sideways glance. "Oh?" she answered, her voice as nonchalant as she could let it.

He nodded. "I didn't expect this to be this easy," he admitted. "I thought that you would at least send for someone to stop us." He was looking at her closely now, as if waiting for some telltale sign.

"I don't know what you mean," she finally answered, looking deliberately away. "Had I not wanted to be here, I wouldn't have needed to send someone to stop us." She paused, carefully weighing her next words. "I think I would have been able to manage the situation."

He gave a grunt. "Well, then," he began, "I guess the real question is why _did_ you want to come with me in the first place." A small smile curved across his upper lip. "It couldn't have been my charm."

She gave an unladylike sound as she turned to him. "No," she agreed readily. "Your charm could have used some work." Again, she looked outside of her window. "I came out of curiosity," she finally said, after a long pause. "I am very interested to know what you and…Father Enrico Maxwell have to say for yourselves."

"Don't tell me that that Hellsing vampire had missed an opportunity to rail about the Iscariot," he said deliberately, disbelievingly. "I'm quite sure that we were one of your first lessons after your…incident."

A wry grin escaped her lips. "Perhaps," she conceded well enough. Walter and Alucard had been quite vocal of their opinions regarding the Iscariot. "If I were to believe even half of what they have told me," she began, refusing to name Walter or the vampire, "I would say that the Iscariot ranked slightly above, if not equal to those FREAKs we are so fond of terminating."

A smirk appeared on the corner of his mouth. "And do you believe all that those two have told you?" he asked impertinently.

She gave him a pointed look before turning away. She refused to answer that particular question. Let him take that as he will.

He laughed, clearly enjoying her discomfiture. "You have fire in you, Sir Hellsing, I would give you that," he told her.

She gave him a pensive look. "I am quite curious about one thing at this moment, though," she imparted.

He arched one of his brows at her, looking down at her from his driving.

"I am very curious to know," she let the words out slowly, "how the Iscariot happened to be quite well-informed of my condition, when even the Knights themselves—as you well know—are in the dark."

She saw his grip of the steering wheel tighten. Had she touched upon a sensitive spot? "I find it very interesting," she continued, "how very closely the Iscariot monitors the Hellsing Organization." She dropped her voice lower. "It makes me wonder if the same can be said vice versa." She let out a small chuckle. "What _is_ that old adage? _Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies even closer_?"

"A very wise saying to live by," he agreed. "As for how closely Hellsing watches over us," he paused, giving her an intent look, "don't _you_ know, Sir…Integra?"

She gave a knowing smile. "Let's just say that I have a feeling that despite my acquiescence to this trip and the relatively small fuss regarding your…ahh…invitation, the Hellsing Organization at this time is searching for ways to extricate me from the Iscariot Organization's deceitful clutches."

He laughed. "That sounds right," he nodded. "It is something both our organizations have to accept. The flow of information will occur despite all our precautions. I am sure that at this time, Hellsing has found the mole that supplied the information regarding your health."

"You believe them to be that efficient?" she questioned, genuinely surprised at his show of unexpected regard towards Hellsing.

"In routing out human infestation?" he clarified. "Then unequivocally, yes, I believe them to be that efficient. In routing out the vermin that has permeated our society? In that department, your Hellsing Organization is quite hampered; hence, your inability to perform at your fullest capability. Then, there is your use of immoral use of the vampire whose very existence is an insult to what Hellsing should stand for." He shook his head.

She raised her brows. "What do you mean, we are hampered?" she asked him curiously, choosing to ignore his reference to Alucard. "In what way?"

He looked at her in askance. "You cannot mean to tell me that the Knights and sometimes even the Queen herself has caused difficulties in your organization? It is especially the case when it comes to the political aspirations of your Knights. What good are you if you divide your time between pacifying their petty jealousies and pursuing the FREAKs? To succeed against this evil, a single-mindedness is called for. And that, my dear, is something that you will always lack."

She treated him with a derisive laugh. "And _you_ cannot mean to tell me that the Iscariot suffers from no such petty political squabbles. From what I know of Enrico Maxwell, his adeptness at this sort of thing is inborn. And let's not forget your encroachment of England. What is that if not the furthering of your own causes."

"Causes, yes," he conceded. "If by 'causes' you mean the termination of the unholy ones. The only reason we even stepped foot on your island is your inability to quickly and efficiently stamp down the rise of vermin."

"Really?" she asked, skeptical. "Are you so sure of Father Maxwell and his motives?"

He opened his mouth to say more, but paused midway.

"If that is the case," she pursued, "then what am I doing here?" She leaned closer to him. "If the only reason for your presence in England is the elimination of vampires, why am I receiving this invitation for a _tête-a-tête _with Father Maxwell? Surely, the knowledge of an amnesiac regarding the destruction of vampires is miniscule compared to that of Section XIII?"

She looked closely at his face, and the tightening of his jaw.

"That is something that will be discussed upon your arrival," he hedged, unable to meet her eyes. "For a supposed amnesiac," he added begrudgingly, "you seem quite well-versed in all of this."

Something in the pitch of his voice triggered warning bells in her subconscious. "You don't whole-heartedly approve of my being here, do you?" she prodded softly.

He shrugged. "What I approve and not approve of is none of your concern," he replied brusquely.

"Hmm," she murmured. "It makes your little story—no doubt concocted by Maxwell—even less believable than before," she observed. "I wonder what convinced you to go on ahead with Father Enrico Maxwell's plan, given your…strong feelings towards the Hellsing Organization."

He gave a disgusted sigh. "In this case," he replied, "ours is not to ask."

She gave him an inquiringly glance before looking away again. This trip to Rome was just getting interesting.

* * *

"There were not a lot of signs of struggle," Walter informed him with a bang of his hands on the table. "At most, a couple of severely injured men, including the driver, courtesy of the regenerator's weapon of choice."

"She wasn't forced," Alucard declared casually, as he leaned back against the wall of her office. Of that, he was quite certain. Despite the barrier erected between their minds ever since her recovery, he was certain that he would have known had she felt any danger to her well-being. The question foremost on his mind at this time was her reasons for allowing herself to be taken willingly by _them_. Had he not stressed the untrustworthiness of the Iscariot Organization? Furthermore, he was quite sure that Walter had done the exact same thing.

Why then did she go willingly?

"Not forced?" Walter looked at him incredulously. "You call severely injuring our men not forced?"

"I said that _she_ wasn't forced," he replied, still perturbed. "The men were a different matter." His eyes closed behind his yellow lenses.

"What!" Walter gritted through his teeth, even more incredulous. "Sir Integra would never—"

He glanced up at the now steward of the Hellsing manor. "You are correct," he interrupted, "She would never have come willingly to them before." He paused. "But as we both know, my master is not quite as she once was."

He stared at the man he had known longer than any mortal in this earth at this time. Walter seemed defeated almost as he retreated into his own thoughts.

"Have I failed her?" the man asked himself softly. "I've tried to instill her own loyalties and duties these past few days in an effort to help her remember. I've shown her the accomplishments of her ancestors, all the sources of pride of the Hellsing name!"

"Except it is difficult to feel any sense of loyalty or duty on something she has no memory of," Alucard ineterrupted. "Or to feel affection on a long dead man from a painting." He looked up at Walter. "We know my master," he chided. "We should have expected this."

"Expected what?" Walter asked. "That she would fly the coup and join Iscariot?"

Alucard laughed mirthlessly. "Join Iscariot? Hardly. We should have expected that she would challenge our teachings," he clarified. The more he thought about it, the more his master's actions were slowly making some strange sort of sense. "She's like a child with her amnesia," he explained. "She was bound to rebel."

Walter gasped indignantly. "Sir Integra never rebelled as a child," he defended. "She knew her duty to her family and country!"

Alucard pushed himself against the wall and walked towards the retainer. "Then I believe it's about time she did, don't you? Without her sense of familial obligation, what's to stop her from finding out on her own whether what we taught her was truth?"

"Well," began Walter, at a loss, "what do you suggest we do?"

"Given the presence of that Judas priest, we know where she most likely is," he replied. "I'll go and fetch her."

"Just like that?" Walter asked, a tinged of smile threatening the corners of his mouth. "You'll just stroll quietly inside the Vatican fetch her home?"

Alucard shook his head. "I won't need to go the Vatican itself," he said. "I believe that she will call me when she's ready." He looked intently at the retainer. "She'll come home when she's ready. I will be there just in case there is any resistance from Section XIII regarding her decision."

Walter nodded when they heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," Walter called out. The sight of Peter Fargason greeted their eyes.

"We have the mole," he informed them without preamble, his face grave.

"See that proper justice is meted out on our culprit," suggested Walter.

"Perhaps," interjected Alucard, "I can be of help."

The two men looked at him speculatively. "Why yes," replied Walter. "Perhaps you can."

To be continued.


End file.
